


Dream Girl

by Saylee



Category: Red Dwarf
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 06:52:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saylee/pseuds/Saylee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While on a beach in AR, Kristine Kochanski and Holo!Lister have an important talk.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream Girl

"Mmm, this is nice." Kristine stretched out on the lounge chair, and kicked off her flip flops, relishing the warm sun beating down on her skin. The sky above was bright blue and clear, the sand gleaming white, and the water a shocking shade of turquoise. Gulls cried in the distance and a gentle breeze caressed her face. Impulsively, she grabbed the hand of the man in the chair beside her, and gave it a squeeze. "Thanks, Dave." 

Dave grinned. "Thought you'd like it." He leaned over to rummage in the cooler to his other side, and emerged, holding a bowl of strawberries. "Want one?" 

"Ooh, yes please." She graciously let him feed her one. "Delicious." She plucked another berry from the bowl and nibbled it delicately, while he took a bite out of a particularly juicy one, tossing away the top and sucking the juice off his fingers. He caught her looking and wiggled his eyebrows at her, and she shook her head with a smile. How was the man so charismatic, even when he was being silly? She should not be so attracted to her ex, she scolded herself, but it didn't hold the same weight it used to. 

"You know," he said, indicating the AR paradise around them, "I used to think about living in a place like this. I had a whole plan. Fiji -" 

"Dave, it's underwater!" 

"- a little farm, cows, sheep, horses, you know? And maybe a food stand, doughnuts, sausages. You would have been there, too. It was perfect." 

She sighed. "Dave. It's a ridiculous plan." 

He shrugged, "Oh, I know it's silly now. There's probably no Earth left, and even if there was, I can't do farm work if I can't touch anything. But it would have been nice, wouldn't it?" 

She tried again, as gently as she could. "Dave, I wouldn't have come with you." 

"Well, not after we broke up, no, but I thought, y'know, I could get you to give me another shot. And I would've done all the work. You wouldn't have had to lift a finger." 

"Dave, I'd be bored. I _liked_ my job, remember? What would I even do with my time?" 

He frowned. "I always pictured you wearing a white dress and riding the horses on the beach." 

"That's it?" 

"Hey, you like horses. You told me all about Thumper." 

She looked at him pityingly. "Well, yes, I like horses. I also like beaches in paradise, but Dave, it wouldn't be enough. It wouldn't be what I wanted. Look, it's a sweet, romantic dream, but that's not me in it, just an idea of me." 

He sighed. "You're probably right." He thought for a moment, then brightened "Well then, could I interest you in a farm on Fiji, where you could still do your fancy officer job? I'd even try to read those books you're always on about. It could be a pineapple farm, for your cottage cheese," he teased. 

She smiled back. "Tempting, Mr. Lister, very tempting. Did we bring anything to drink?" 

He leaned over to check the cooler again. "Looks like we've got some sort of wine here. That one I said wasn't so bad, last time. I swear, Kris, you're trying to turn me all posh like you." 

She laughed as he poured them each a glass. "There's nothing wrong with a little culture." 

He pulled a face. "I even listened to that opera you were talking about the other day. And I liked parts of it, the passion and stuff. I'd even listen to more. If that's not wrong, I don't know what is!" 

"Probably the fact that you're becoming the man of my dreams," she answers quietly, and their eyes catch and hold, and she feels his hand against hers again. 

***** 

It's not the curry and lager, or the trainers in the fridge, or his idea of games night. It's not the way he comes onto her sometimes, cheeky, knowing he's pressing his luck. It's not even the fact that he's not her Dave. It's the way he looks at her sometimes, as if still somehow expecting to see the girl from his dream, in a flowing white dress, galloping a horse down a beach in Fiji. She doesn't have the heart to tell him that she was never that girl, and she wonders if it isn't just the dream of a dream now, and if he knows that, maybe, deep down. 

She is going to get home someday.


End file.
